A Lack of Colour
by earan
Summary: There was a terrible lack of colour around him, and he knew then it was the end of the world. Percy vignette during Fred's funeral. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/n: I need closure of Fred Weasley's death. I'm heartbroken over his death and I don't feel as though Rowling made us _feel _his death enough, so this is my way of giving myself closure. Title comes from the song 'A Lack of Colour' by Death Cab for Cutie.

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**A Lack of Colour**  
_by Earan_

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There was a terrible lack of colour around him, and he knew then it was the end of the world.

They decided to have the funeral a week after Voldemort was killed. The wizarding world was split in half. There was a wide arrange of conflicting emotions in the air; sheer joy of evil finally being brought down to the devastation it had cost. Percy knew, with remorse, that his brother was truly gone, and he was standing right beside him – and he could not protect him.

The world had disappeared for a split second and he had returned, to find the emptiness in his brother's eyes.

And the lack of colour was not in the things around him, but his very soul. It ached terribly, still. He wanted to end it.

Fred's body was not damaged. George was the one to pass his hand over his eyelids, and send him to eternal rest. He was still smiling.

Mrs Weasley did not even cry. That was a horrible stab. Mr Weasley did not blame him. That was even worse.

Percy stood, oblivious and apathetic to everything around him. The flower arrangements seemed beautiful, but he could not make sense of their texture nor their colour. They seemed grey and hopeless, for the end would come to them anyway. Soon, they would wither away.

Of all of the siblings, Ginny was the only one who did not cry. Her face was blank of emotion. There was no sign a soul existed within. She stood by the white fence, holding a flower in her hands, staring out robotically into the horizon. Its glamour of orange and red teased the Weasley family in all its glory, as it set to meet the other side. He wondered if Fred would be there.

He knew George had a silent vendetta against him. George blamed him. He was glad someone did; he deserved the blame. The look in George's eyes was so haunting as though Fred was seeing through his eyes, demanding to know why Percy had not jumped in front of him or threw his arms over him. After all, he was the one who had abandoned the family. He had dismissed his fellow brothers and sister, his parents, and threw away his identity as a Weasley. It was better for him to go and for Fred to stay.

He could not look at George.

They were all dressed in black. It reflected the colourless aching he felt inside.

The weather was sympathetic; there was no wind.

Harry Potter blamed himself. It surprised Percy more than anything, and he felt alive enough to ask: 'Why do _you _blame yourself?' But he did not feel alive enough to understand the answer. He just knew it was ridiculous, that he only felt that way because he was the Boy who Lived. But Percy was his brother.

Bill cut off his ponytail and placed it on Fred's chest. Fleur was sobbing enchantingly.

George broke a pair of Extendable Ears and placed one ear in Fred's hand. He stood over his body for a while, for a week perhaps, or a month. Then, he turned around and punched Percy.

The blood dripping from his nose gave the fallen petals colour. He did not bother to get back up. George's face was filled with contempt. For that, Percy was envious. At least George felt something.

Ginny hurried George away to a nearby tree. She had started to cry a little, the paths of streaking tears drying against the air. George punched the tree several times. His knuckles began to bleed. His screams filled the sky, his anguish echoing. Maybe someone in the clouds would hear it.

And when they closed the casket, Percy saw the last of Fred's ghostly smile.

Somewhere – or maybe he was going insane, and hearing it in his head – Percy heard Fred's voice.

_You're joking, Perce!_

He looked at the ground. Maybe it was magic or maybe it was realization, but he felt the corners of his mouth curl into a sad smile.

There was a terrible lack of colour around him, but Fred was dancing in a heap of rainbows beyond the mocking sunset.

With a last look at his family, he walked away.


End file.
